Chapter 28 – Styled for Mal

Looking at my reflection in the tri-fold mirror, I still find it hard to believe that these little changes can make such a dramatic impact. The simple black skirt is beyond tight, it actually constricts my stride making me take smaller steps. Grace called it a pencil skirt. And with it coming up over my belly, it makes my legs look impossibly long. The layered white blouse fits tightly around my waist and bust, but then becomes pieces of flimsy translucent gossamer cloth around my shoulders and arms. And with the way Grace helped pull in the shelf bra of my faja and more aggressively glue on my breast forms this morning, I’m actually able to have some of my chest fat fold together. I have cleavage to show. I still can’t show much, but it’s a huge step as far as I’m concerned.

Turning to see how tight the skirt is around my ass I can’t help but pout. These damned heels with their red soles are amazingly sexy. It feels like they have my feet standing up on my tippy toes, but they still give me enough balance to not fall off their spike like heels. And what that position does to my calves, thighs, and ass? Dear lord, I never would have guessed heels could do this much for a woman’s body. They affect my balance enough that I have to keep my shoulders back which in turn makes me push my breasts out even further. I realize suddenly that Trixie might not actually be standing purposefully in such provocative poses. At least not on purpose. Her heels could be doing this to her because I’m standing just LIKE her right now.

“OH MY GOD PARIS!!! YOU LOOK GORGEOUS!!” Speak of the devil.

I turn and **** my smile on. I don’t have to worry about the blush as that seems to have been plastered to my cheeks since we got to the store. I can immediately spot Trixie making her way toward me in her hilariously fast-paced yet slow moving scamper. She’s holding two more pair of heels, a blouse that will be an absolute no with its window designed to show off my breasts, and another pencil skirt. I have to mentally kick myself as a reminder that Trixie is here because Grace and I asked her to help me buy a new wardrobe. And we didn’t exactly have a choice as Mr. Orpheus had noticed Trixie and I palling around and ‘appreciated’ the way that she dressed, telling Grace to invite Trixie to go shopping with us. So far as Trixie knows, I just wanted to change up my style to look more like her and she’s happy about it. The fact that she’s complimenting me on looking like an office whore isn’t meant as an insult. “Aww, thank you Trix! You’re sweet! But these heels? Are you sure I’ll be able to get around in them all day? They seem pretty tall?”

Grace follows along behind Trixie. Her eyes dip down to my heels, then back up to my eyes where she nods. Evidently, we’re buying them. After all, Grace is ultimately in charge of my outfits now. We talked about it after Mal left that night. It still didn’t feel real, but I needed to know exactly what Grace was going to dress me as. She mentioned that it would be a combination of short flowing skirts that showed off my legs, especially while sitting down, and long tight pencil skirts that would show off my curves. All my tops would be practically skintight to show off my bust, although we obviously can’t show cleavage… or as I later learned, not too much cleavage. Heels would be taller. Makeup would be more overt and in your face. My nails would be getting longer. Glasses wouldn’t be allowed any more. I’d constantly be wearing more jewelry, from bracelets that will rattle and bang and announce my presence before I even enter a room, to rings on several fingers on both hands. From necklaces to ankle bracelets. When Grace mentioned that Mal really liked one secretary that had a pierced tongue, I put my foot down and absolutely refused. But other than that, I had to begrudgingly agree. Basically, I’d look as sexy as I possibly could.

After a few more fittings we gather up my new outfits and head to the cashier. Grace slaps down Mal’s own private American Express Centurion Card. The black one. When we spoke on the phone that next morning and he laid out his expectations for my behaviors, I thought I might have a way to help both Grace and me. Sure, she’d have to play with my make-up and hair, but we couldn’t possibly afford new clothes. Mal not only blew that plan out of the water by telling me he’d buy me a new wardrobe, he knocked me off my feet by telling me not to exceed twenty thousand dollars.

Our next stop is Loops Cuts and Curls. I’d already talked with Julie about what I needed, and they were ready for us. This is one area where I really didn’t want Trixie’s input, so she and Grace were taken over by Lucy to get facials. She’d be sure to keep them both occupied while I got my hair trimmed, colored, and my nails done. Gone were my longish but still practical nails. They were replaced by sculpted ballerina nails that would definitely affect my typing. My hair was getting the highlights I didn’t want. It would end up a brighter red and fade down to an almost strawberry blond at the tips. And while this work was being done Eveyln would be there giving me pointers and suggestions on my makeup.

By the time we walk out, I still can’t stop looking at my nails. They are literally going to change how I do every single thing with my hands. I smile and nod on the train ride back to the apartment while Grace and Trixie go over how hot and sexy I’m going to look. Mentally I can’t help but go over what Mal told me about my attitude. How I’d be acting. I was disgusted thinking I’d have to act like I did before he tried to **** himself on me. Acting like an air headed bimbo. All giggles and winks and shakes of my ass and tits. But now that he’s calling the shots, Mal is taking this up a notch and getting everything he’s wanted from a secretary. Yes, I’ll still act like an air headed bimbo. His exact words were “If someone assumes you’re smart enough to operate a pencil sharpener, then you’re playing it too smart.” Fine. But I have to be exuding sexual energy all day, every day. While he doesn’t care if Trixie and I continue to see each other outside the office, inside the office we’re just to appear as gal pals as his secretary is “one hundred precent straight”. I’m to be boy crazy. If there’s a man nearby, I’m to flirt with him. A wink, a nod, a giggle, an inappropriate or unneeded touch. “Every man should think you’re inviting him to your bed.”

Perhaps worst of all was the relationship between Mal and me. He said we’d discuss it more in the office, but it was to be an easy rumor around the office that he and I were fucking. It was assumed he’d been fucking all his other secretaries, and it needed to be the same with me. So not only was I to flirt with the men in the office, I was to make it clear that I was open to relations with men. With married men.

When we finally get all the bags up into our apartment all I want to do is get out of this damned faja and try to decompress, but Trixie wants another fashion show and Grace does nothing to stop it. For the next hour I get to parade in and out of my bedroom showing off my entire new wardrobe. All my heels, all my hose, all my skirts, all my blouses, all my sweaters, all my jewelry. And there’s just something devious about the whole process. Here I am being **** to be the very type of woman I like to see. Sexy, dressed up, flirty. I’m being looked over by two women that are attracted by the very same type of women and they’re playing barbie doll with me, perfecting my over-the-top sexy look, all to their sexual attraction. After hours of positive reinforcement, is it any wonder that I started to enjoy it? At least a little?

When Trixie left, promising that we’d get to have some fun later in the week, Grace insisted that I stay in my last outfit, the Lou Bou heels, the red leather mini skirt, and the black vest blouse that left my arms open and showed off just a peek of my cleavage with the three bracelets clinking and clanking on my wrist like some kind of cow bell announcing my presence. Grace tried to soften the blow by at least helping with dinner, but I reminded her that I was still subjugating myself on the gender therapist front and I needed to make dinner for her.

We started by going over the **** itself. I’m not surprised that Grace thought I might have actually been blackmailing the models. And after explaining what was going on, I’ll admit even the truth sounds damning. But with Mal’s deletion of the full video files, and my lack of access to the edited files, I was fucked. I couldn’t even blame the models for agreeing to talk against me. If the videos went out, they could blame me and profit from it, or stand by me and see their careers ruined.

Even the easy dinner takes longer to make than normal as I’m still growing accustomed to these claw-like nails. By the time I get it on the table, Grace is telling me about how she’s screwed by Mal. I get that Wharton is difficult, and I have at least a basic understanding that writing a thesis for an MBA is tough at any school. So, nearly failing the process seems to me that it wouldn’t be that spectacular. But Grace explains that she and Professor Stoll had a romantic relationship. It was her last romantic relationship with a man. If it got out that they’d been romantically involved, it would jeopardize her thesis project as well as his career. If it got out that she’d almost failed AND had been in a romantic relationship with her thesis supervisor, it would almost certainly put her entire MBA in jeopardy and get him fired. So, Mal having Professor Stoll write up a letter stating that Grace used their relationship to **** him into giving her a pass on her thesis was a pure scorched earth policy. Her entire degree would be rescinded, and Professor Stoll’s career would be ended.

So, we’re both doing this to protect ourselves, and we’re going along to protect others as well. Me protecting the models, Grace protecting Professor Stoll.

The chicken fettuccine alfredo tastes fine but neither Grace nor I have much of an appetite. After I get the dishes done, Grace finally relents on me changing into something comfortable as she agrees, I’m going to wrinkle my new outfit. After I slip out of the clothes and faja and into my panties, bra, and robe, I spend about an hour arranging my closet. All of my old outfits now take up a single corner while my new collection takes up the remainer of the space. I try not to dwell on how much we spent on my new clothes as I shift into cleaning the apartment. This weekend was supposed to be the deep cleaning, but I’m going to have to put that off and just do another tidy up.

Just like when I first started getting used to wearing heels, I keep some of my more challenging heels on while I clean. The last thing I need is to stumble in these at work and the only way to get comfortable in them is to wear them. Between wearing the heels and my new nails, it feels like every single action I take is an exaggerated over the top feminine motion. I don’t move from room to room, I scamper and wiggle my ass. I keep holding my hands out as my fingernails seem to catch on everything. Dusting, vacuuming, washing the windows, they all take forever. And while I’m washing Grace’s and my hand wash lingerie in the kitchen sink, I can’t help but notice Grace in the living room. Watching me.

She’s better at hiding it, but now that I’m aware of her being attracted to the new me, I’m more able to notice her in the background. Peeking over her book. Snuggling up in the chair. Moving from chair to chair to keep a clear view of me. Nibbling on her lower lip as her eyes glaze over. We agreed that a relationship between us wouldn’t be good, but then this whole ordeal got turned on its head and between the nails, my new hair, and these fucking heels, I’m turning more into her ideal girl at home. And just like seeing Grace and Trixie’s smiles and attention were positive reinforcement to me, her seeing me practicing my smile and flirty looks must be positive reinforcement to her.

We are so fucked.

I make a point to NOT get up earlier than normal. Yes, I have to do my new makeup. Yes, I have to get dressed in a new outfit. Yes, I’ll be heading into work in new heels, and I know that everything will take longer with these new longer nails. But I’m already on the ragged edge of not getting enough sleep. If I’m to keep my smile on, I need to stay in bed until at least four thirty in the morning.

When I’m finally ready and checking myself in the mirror, I think I have the look down. At least the look that Mal will be happy with. The black velvet heels have built in platforms to make them look taller than they actually are but provide their own balance issues. They do look nice though, letting my toes peek out and show off their matching pink nail polish. Grace thinks I would have been better off with red nails, but I’m all about theme and I’m going to lean into hot and sexy pink rather than sultry red. I have my hair straightened to show off its full length. Without any further styling it will constantly need moving, over one shoulder or pulled behind my ear, but that’s part of the flirtiness that’s now expected out of me.

The outfit is definitely going to send a signal to everybody that sees me. The black silk skirt stops inches above my knee but hugs my hips, ass, and legs tightly. The lacy hose-like panels on either side let you see my legs all the way up to my waist, just where the faja ends. Combined with my black hose, it’s a very sexy look. My blouse is a pink vest that blooms out at the waist giving it some natural motion as I move around. The front panel opens up a bit with a nude-colored silk insert that at first glance will look like I have a v-neck halfway down to my belly. It actually covers most of me but does let my cleavage show up top working the illusion of curves even more. And finally, my makeup. I had to start over three times as I’m pushing well past conservative and well into club style makeup. The gloss on my lips makes them look like liquid candy and will require touch ups roughly every half hour.

I no longer look like a sexy secretary. I look like a porn version of a secretary.